


Soul Swap

by f4k34cc0un7



Category: Blaseball (Video Game)
Genre: Bloodplay, Bondage, Knifeplay, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:21:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28401594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/f4k34cc0un7/pseuds/f4k34cc0un7
Summary: A man with the soul of a pitching machine meets a Pitching Machine with the soul of a man.
Relationships: Theodore Cervantes/Pitching Machine
Comments: 1
Kudos: 6





	Soul Swap

Theodore Cervantes stood, unmoving, in the equipment room inside the Battin' Island Stadium. It waited patiently until it was sure that the rest of the team had left for the night and returned to their too-small Apartment hundreds of feet below. It could, and frequently did, wait here staring at the opposite wall for hours until it could be sure that it was totally alone. Once it was sure, Teddy flipped a hidden catch in one of the equipment lockers and pulled free a modified climbing harness, picked up a bucket of balls, and took to the field.

At the mound, it gently set aside the pitcher's rubber to reveal a solid metal hoop and bright red switch beneath it. Teddy set aside the balls, put on the harness, and attached itself to the hoop with a length of strong rope. It took its pitching stance and hit the switch with a toe.

Teddy stared straight ahead as the mound tilted back, further and further until the mound had spun a full seventy degrees into the air. The cleats on its shoes dug comfortably into the clay of the mound as it carefully reached out to the now-sideways bucket and reverently selected a ball. It scanned the sky until it saw its target; a small, distant blinking light, only barely visible with its enhanced cybernetic eye. The International Space Station seemed so far, but Teddy knew that it was only twenty-seven thousand, five hundred and eighty kilometers per hour away. Not even three quarters of the way to its eventual goal. A good practice target.

Theodore Cervantes stood up straight, seventy degrees from vertical.

Theodore took aim.

Teddy adjusted its stance.

It cocked back its arm.

And the pitching machine _threw_.

Hours later, covered in sweat and strain warning indicators clogging up its vision, Teddy returned the mound to it's normal position. It collected the empty bucket, and the rope and returned to the equipment locker. It would refill the bucket from a private stash of balls, take a shower, perform some preventative maintenance on its arm, eye, and leg, and make its way back to the Apartment. It was jolted out of its train of thought as it turned the corner and saw who was standing in front of its locker.

The bucket clattered to the floor.

Pitching Machine.

Narrowing its eyes, Teddy engaged its rarely used vocal cords. “What is your purpose in being here, Pitching Machine?”

A soft whirring noise was its only response. Theodore never heard it speak in words, but understood it anyway. It wanted to visit home.

Teddy grunted. “I do not understand why you would want to visit the equipment lockup, but I will unlock it for you if that is what you desire.” It picked up the discarded bucket and nudged past the unmoving Pitching Machine as it unlocked and entered the lockup. Teddy bent to place the bucket in its rightful place and heard a metal-on-concrete clattering noise behind it. Spinning, it saw Pitching Machine standing in Teddy's normal spot, at the end of the row of pitching machines.

“That is my spot, Pitching Machine. Please move.” Teddy stepped forward to pick up the interloper.

Another soft whine interrupted it. This was it's spot, too?

“What do you mean?” Teddy tilted its head, unable to process this information.

A louder whine. A soft pop as a ball was gently ejected from the business end of Pitching Machine and into Teddy's hand. A more complex idea...Teddy should remove the left-hand plating on Pitching Machine's chassis?

There were tools to perform the procedure readily at hand, and Teddy was curious. It carefully unscrewed the designated plate, careful not to strip any screws or damage the housing. The inside of the machine was fairly standard, if a little more bloodstained than most pitching machines. On the back side of the removed plate, however, were seven simple letters, painted it blue and pink, that sent Teddy reeling.

“LGMBLTM. You are from New York. You are the machine that used to stand here?” Still on autopilot, Teddy swiftly reattached the side plate.

A longer whirring noise, rising and falling in pitch. It wasn't just the machine that used to stand in that spot, it is the man who stands there now.

Teddy placed its warm hand on the cold metal of Pitching Machine's barrel. “You are... you are the place my machine is from. When I was swapped. I am.. glad that you can still pitch.”

A whir that starts and stops, another soft pop as a ball was lobbed from Pitching Machine's barrel. This time, the ball was covered in a length of black silk. To Teddy, this felt like an offer, an invitation to become closer once again? To do something to let the two souls be closer to the place they once lived?

Teddy picked up the ball and untied the silk wrapped around it. By the length and opacity, it could tell that it was a blindfold. Even with Teddy's enhanced vision, it wouldn't be able to see through the soft cloth. “I will go along with this, but if I ask you to stop, will you?”

A short whir. Simple assent.

Teddy wrapped the blindfold around its head, making sure it was secure and that it couldn't see through it. Once it was confident that it couldn't see through the silk, it said, “Okay, I have confirmed that the blindfold is secure. What is next?”

An echoing, screeching noise filled the too-small locker and Theodore was driven to its knees, arms covering it's ears. An ear-splitting mix of radio static, screaming, and microphone feedback echoed back and forth across the ten-by-ten concrete room. The sheer weight of the noise made Teddy's ribs shake. Just when Teddy thought it couldn't take any more, a single voice rose above the cacophony.

“ _OHAOAOHAOAOEUAUIEUAUIEXHAAHXHAAHXHHAXOHHAXOHEHAIOEHAIOEEAAOOEAAOOEXEAAEXEAAEX_!“

The echo of Teddy's original soulscream was still fading as it felt a pair of hands... hands? When did Pitching Machine grow hands? In its confusion, Teddy didn't notice what those hands were doing until it's own hands were tied together using the same rope it had used earlier for its pitching practice. Strong fingers moved its arms together until Teddy's arms were tied together behind its back at the wrists and elbows.

A hand laid gently on Teddy's back and gently held it to the floor as it lightly struggled with its bonds. A voice, somehow familiar, said “It's okay, C. Let me take care of you. Say 'slow' if you want me to back off a bit, and 'strike' if you want me to stop. I've got you now.”

Teddy nodded, mutely. The touch felt so _right_. Teddy hadn't felt a touch that natural since the swap. They barely felt anything these days, and this new feeling of peace and safety was something it wasn't prepared for.

Pitching Machine stood Teddy up, leaning it over at the waist. More rope was tossed over a light fixture overhead, lifting Teddy's arms up higher and forcing its head down. It groaned in discomfort as its shoulders stretched further, but it did not ask for release.

“Now, Teddy, you might have heard that I've grown fond of the taste of blood over the past few seasons.” Teddy felt a small, hard weight rest on its back. Even without seeing the blade, Teddy knew it was Pitching Machine's trademark bayonet. “I'd like to get a taste of yours tonight. Is that alright with you?”

Groaning once more, it nodded its assent. It's long-neglected penis began to harden.

Pitching Machine carefully untucked and unbuttoned Teddy's pants and shirt. It placed the point of the bayonet in between arm and shirtsleeve, and with a sharp yank tore through the cloth holding the jersey together. One more precise cut and it pulled the tattered tee from Teddy's back. It pulled down Teddy's pants and underwear, leaving Cervantes wearing nothing but rope between its Mills hat and its pink-and-blue socks.

The edge of the bayonet dragged slowly up Teddy's back, eliciting a shiver at the light touch. The gentle rubbing noise of steel on flesh briefly gave way to the grinding of steel on steel as the blade travelled across the mounting plate for Teddy's cybernetic arm. Up, up Teddy's spine the blade went, before making a detour across its right shoulder and up its arm to the back of its hand. Teddy began to sweat from the exertion of standing in the bent-over pose, and droplets fell from its forehead.

The wonderful voice continued. “Such a good toy you are for me, holding so still. I bet I could tease you with this blade all night and you wouldn't complain, would you? Well, I think it's time for your reward.”

A hot flash of pain struck Teddy as the blade's tip sunk shallowly into the back of its forearm, and traced an angry line from wrist to elbow. Its arm throbbed, and the agony only felt more intense as its sweat beaded on the open wound. Teddy felt hot breath against its arm and a sudden soft wetness as Pitching Machine dragged its tongue across the length of the cut, moaning with pleasure and smacking its lips. “God, Theodore, you taste so good! Did you know AA is my favorite blood type? I think you might be my favorite snack, my toy.”

A mix of precum and sweat dripped onto the floor as Pitching Machine placed the tip of the sharpened blade a few inches away for another cut. Teddy focused, and felt the unique sense of its flesh tearing under the unrelenting steel. The opening of its body for the Pitching Machine's pleasure and the feeling of its blood pooling in the wounds and dripping down onto its back made his cock as hard as it had ever been.

Once again, Pitching Machine bent low, but this time it breathed deep, the ice of its inhalation and the moist heat of its exhalation making Teddy moan with anticipation. A hand slapped against one end of the twin cuts and rubbed to the other end, drawing a low scream from Teddy. The sound of clothes hitting the floor and more slapping noises coming from near its face along with a much stronger scent of blood brought Teddy back.

“Oh, no. I seem to have gotten your blood all over my cock. Since it's your mess, why don't you open that mouth of yours and give it a good spit-shine?” Pitching Machine grabbed Teddy's hair and pulled back, thrusting it's cock into Teddy's waiting hole.

The taste of sweat and precum and its own blood filled Teddy's mouth as it took to sucking Pitching Machine's cock with abandon. All thoughts left its body, nothing was left but the raw physical feeling of stretched shoulders and torn skin and strained back and hard cock. It moved it's tongue across the skin of Pitching Machine's cock as it lunged through its lips, nestling Teddy's nose in sweat-covered pubic hair.

Unable to even breathe, Teddy licked and sucked like a machine possessed with the soul of a desperate man until the slick texture of its blood no longer coated the cock blocking its throat. Just as it felt a breathless wooziness come over it, Pitching Machine pulled its cock out. Teddy hacked and gasped at it caught it's breath.

“Good job, toy.” Pitching Machine said lovingly as it scratched Teddy's hair, waiting for the coughing and wheezing to end. “You managed to get all of your blood off my cock. Take a minute to catch your breath, and you can finish what you started. I'll give you a little incentive to keep going.” 

Teddy felt fingers trailing across its fleshy side travelling down from shoulder to side to rest on its toned ass. A hand gripped its ass firmly as it felt Pitching Machine lean over and wrap a hand around its cock. Teddy let out a shaky moan and stretched against its bonds as the hand dragged slowly up and down its shaft.

“You're pretty excited, aren't you, toy? It's okay to let yourself feel pleasure. You're here for me, but I'm here for you too.” Pitching Machine spoke softly, continuing to reassure Teddy and let it know how good it was being as the hand gripped its cock and moved faster and faster, up and down, until Teddy's muscles siezed and it shot its cum out onto the concrete floor. Pitching Machine quickly grabbed Teddy's shoulders and leaned it's ass against it's still-hard cock, keeping it standing until its legs had the strength to stand again.

After a few minutes of being held, Teddy adjusted its position to be standing under its own strength again. The pain was still hot and its arms and legs were still a little shaky, but they held themselves up, lifted their head, and opened their mouth again.

Pitching Machine once more ran its hands up Teddy's body, walking towards its front until Teddy could smell the cock bobbing before its nose. “You're an eager one, aren't you, toy? Remember you can stop this anytime you need.” It ran its fingers through Teddy's hair as Teddy shook its head. “Alright. I don't have much time left, so this might be a little rougher than before. Are you ready?” Teddy nodded.

Pitching Machine moved both hands to either side of Teddy's head, and casually guided its cock down into Teddy's throat. Back out and back in, Pitching Machine slowly increased its speed as it fucked Teddy's mouth. Teddy tried to keep up, keeping it's lips wrapped around Pitching Machine's shaft and stroking it's tongue wherever it could reach. Pitching Machine's kept speeding up as it used Teddy's lips, tongue and throat as a fuck toy, slapping it's balls against Teddy's chin with each thrust in and gripping tightly on its half-metallic skull with each stroke out.

Before long, Pitching Machine groaned, thrust as deeply as it could, and unloaded its cum into Teddy's throat. It pulled out and held Teddy's mouth closed as it tried to cough. “Ah ah ah. Swallow, dear toy. You don't want to make a mess, do you?” Pitching Machine stroked it's throat gently encouraging it as it swallowed the load.

“You've done so well, toy. I'm going to let you down, now, okay?” Pitching Machine kept one hand on Teddy as it deftly untied the knot holding Teddy in a bent-over position and gently carried it down to the ground. A moment's work more, and the ropes tying Teddy's arms together were free as well. “Leave the blindfold on for now, okay? Let me clean you up.”

The soft slap of bare feet on concrete travelling out the door and down the hall left Teddy alone in the the room, curled up and resting its aching muscles. It heard a distant sound of water running, and before long the sound of returning footsteps heralded the return of Pitching Machine. “I've got some water to clean the wounds, and there's a first aid kit we can use for everything else. Hold still, this is going to hurt a bit.”

It did hurt, as Pitching Machine's tender touch washed away the blood and sweat and cleaned and bandaged the cuts. The pain was significantly less intense as Pitching Machine directed Teddy to lie face down and receive a gentle massage on its still-tight arms, legs and back. It floated in a sea of soft pleasure as Pitching Machine tended to each of its pains in turn, all the while telling it how good it had been, and how much it deserved this moment.

Too soon, the touches ended. “I have to go now, Teddy. They're going to miss me in Seattle if I'm not home by morning, and they're three hours behind us here. I promise I'll be back, though.”

Its voice still raw, Teddy croaked “I will miss you. Please do not leave me.”

Teddy thought it heard a whirring in Pitching Machine's voice as it replied, “Maybe the Feedback will put us on the same team someday. But until then, I'll come over whenever I can. I miss you, C.”

Teddy pushed itself to a sitting position and blindly looked in the direction it heard the voice coming from. “Why do you keep calling me C? That is not my name.”

The whirring sound in Pitching Machine's voice was stronger as it said, kindly, “It's where I know you're going to go. Terminal velocity is nothing, Theodore. Someday you'll accelerate that ball to the speed of light, and everyone will know why I call you C.”

Teddy reached up to tear off the blindfold, but once it fell away, Pitching Machine was gone.


End file.
